


the "rayve" came and went

by edgaristheoneinthehole



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Eating Disorders, M/M, davie and i agree that this isnt an eating disorder but better safe than sorry i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-20
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-13 04:47:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1213237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edgaristheoneinthehole/pseuds/edgaristheoneinthehole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn’t healthy at all, Ray knew that, but, really, who was he hurting but himself?</p>
            </blockquote>





	the "rayve" came and went

**Author's Note:**

> ps! all of this is based on my own experiences.

The habit began around the seventh grade and had nothing to do with weight or changing anything about him, despite what others might think. Ray either just decided he didn't want to eat, felt like he didn't need to or needed time to prepare for a class. That, along with the fact that he didn't eat breakfast, made him feel hungry the first few weeks during school. After that though the stomach grumbling stopped, his body getting use to the fact that it was mostly only fed during the evening, and he just shrugged and continued along with his unhealthy routine.

And, yeah, even back then, he knew it was unhealthy as shit but from what he knew of eating disorders, it had something to do with weight and his habit wasn't about that. When he tried to explain it to himself, not to others, never others, he speculated it was about him being a picky eater.

Really that was all he had, some speculation and half-assed guesses at what an eating disorder even _was_. But he was fine with his lifestyle and he wasn't hurting anyone so it wasn't like it mattered.

(Slightly worried though, he started to eat at least one slice of bread during the eight grade lunch hours, trying to force some food down his throat, it had to help somehow, right? 

The number of days where he ate at all started to slowly count down but he couldn't win all of the battles.)

* * *

When he got hired at Rooster Teeth, he totally forgot his little habit for a while, because his co-workers were these cool people who wanted to spend time with him during their lunch hours.

But after a while, he started turning those down, for one reason or another, and the days where he didn't eat neither lunch nor breakfast became more of a normal thing than the rarity it had started to become.

Somewhere along the line Ray just accepted that he wasn't dead or doing something life-threatening and that was all that mattered. Just some (most) days of skipped meals for a while (all the time) was fine.

* * *

Ray had always hated going out to eat, the small meals always too little and the big ones too much for him. So, of course, he always took the bigger meal, not wanting to back down. That made him feel kind of sick though.

So, with that in mind, when Michael asked him “Hey, the rest of us are going out for lunch, want to come with?” his answer was a definite “Nah. I'll skip this time,” despite the fact that he'd skipped the last six.

(Later, when he was in a relationship with five other people, Michael scowled at him, calling him motherfucker, explaining he'd planned to ask them out at the lunch that day but then Ray screwed it up and Michael had to find another way to ask. He looked fond, however, when he muttered that, _of course_ it would be Ray's unwillingness to leave his X-box that complicated everything, not that they didn't like each other enough.)

* * *

When they moved in with each other, in a big enough house to house to all of them and with the best AC Ray had ever been near, his habit of not eating breakfast slowly came to light.

It had been a Monday, he thought, and Ryan had been cooking breakfast like he usually did, Gavin at his side, both of them trying to joke around and keep an eye on the food at the same time.

The moment their eyes met his however, they both lit up, still managing to look sleepy, and Ray was so incredibly _fond_ of the idiots who he was dating.

And they _were_ idiots because their chatter and his entrance had distracted them enough for the water to boil, which landed near Gavin's arm and he jumped _at least_ five feet into the air, cussing his little heart out. Not even the silly British or made up ones, actual swear words, the ones he usually used outside of videos.

Ryan lost his shit and Ray had a hard time holding back his laughter, trying not to wake the other guys but at the volume of Gavin's tone, they were probably already awake.

And, sure enough, the rest of the guys slowly started to file in, one by one, with Geoff being the last, grumbling at the noise during 'fuck-all in the morning', even Michael was a better morning person than Geoff was and he'd already yelled at two people by the time Geoff came by.

The rest of the guys saw the food was nearing completion, started to place plates on the table but only the smell of alone it made Ray feel sick to his stomach, so he excused himself, going to the living room, trying to see if there were any good cartoons on at the moment. As it turned out, there were only around three options that he would even remotely watch so he just shrugged and settled for watching some show that was about three teenage spies, he'd seen it once but the name escaped him, not like it mattered because the moment he clicked to the channel with the intent to watch it, someone's hand was in his hair, trying to be soothing but really only managing to be confusing.

Turning around Ray was gifted with the sight of Geoff looking overly concerned, with a hand in the air, where Ray's head use to be, just staring: “Are you sick.”

The demand made Ray pause for a second, actually considering the answer, which was silly but Geoff could do that to him, before he shook his head: “No.”

“Ray,” Geoff's tone turned lower and, holy shit, why did Ray have such attractive and nice-voiced boyfriends, “you looked like you were going to throw up the entire time you were in the kitchen. And now you're not eating. Don't lie to me.”

“I just don't want to eat,” Ray shrugged, not actually having an answer other than that, especially one that wasn't a ten hour long story explaining the problems he developed during school.

“Ray,” Geoff said, dragging out the letters like a warning, “why are you not eating?”

“Other than the fact that it makes me sick to even smell it?”

“HA!” Gavin's victory cry could be heard from the door to the living room, which was behind Geoff so Ray couldn’t see how nearby Gav was, “so you admit you're sick!”

“No, I'm didn't.”

“You totally did,” Michael called from what Ray assumed was the kitchen, the voice sounding fainter than Gavin's had.

Geoff frowned, not partaking in the conversation: “why does it make you feel sick?”

“I don't know, dude,” one of Ray's hands ended up in his hair, almost tugging at it, “it's usually not this bad. But then again, It's not like I have even eaten breakfast in a long time.”

“Ray, that's not healthy,” Geoff's frown deepened, and, weirdly enough, he didn't look even a bit less worried, “eat.”

Ray thought of the food in the kitchen, the smell of it and wondered if the thought of eating had ever sounded so unappealing before: “Not today.”

Geoff still forced him on his feet, to sit at the table, though he didn't force Ray to eat and he silently thanked the man, while the others tried to distract him from the smell.

It worked only somewhat.

But, hey, he didn't throw up, that was nice.

* * *

Ray had a thing for transportation. And that thing was utter hate. Just absolute _loathing._ One of the reasons he never got a licence, other than the fact that he didn't need one, was because rides before eating made his stomach feel heavy and something at the back of his throat feel like a promise, and with buses it was even worse.

So, yeah, Ray would prefer walking over every other way of transportation.

Really it was his own fault that time, having played X-box until three in the morning, sleeping in because of that, not having enough time to even eat a piece of bread before the rest of the guys tugged him into the car, giving him a window seat because he asked three weeks ago. He had no idea how they even remembered something little like that, though it did fill him with a fuzzy feeling.

The feeling in his stomach, always starting from his stomach, didn't develop for a long time, he could actually focus on anything but the feeling for a few hours, just joking around with his boyfriends, could be excited for the camping trip Geoff had planned.

It never started suddenly, it was just this uncomfortable pressure that jumped up and down occasionally, but it did grow as time moved on. After his body decided his stomach's state was horrible enough, the feeling started in the back of his throat, and Ray could ignore that.

But when the feeling in his stomach jumped at the same time as something that faintly tasted like vomit came near his throat before disappearing, he just told the driver, Geoff: “Stop the car.”

Maybe it was his voice, maybe he looked like shit, maybe Geoff was worried, but the car stopped and Ray opened the door, trying really hard not to throw up.

In the end nothing came up and he was glad, just so fucking _tired_ of his stupid body.

Michael, who Ray sat next to, was trying to be comforting, but really, comforting wasn't a part of Michael Jones' personality. Or, if it was, he was really shit at expressing it.

“Michael, do yourself a favour and stop,” Geoff sighed, getting up from his seat, “let the professionals do their jobs.”

He walked out of the car and crouched in front of Ray in a flash: “Okay, you're switching seats with Jack. Jack, get your ass off of shotgun!”

Jack sighed but didn't argue, most likely just as worried and only annoyed that Geoff didn't ask him before demanding, unclasping his seatbelt and getting out of the car, walking to stand next to Geoff.

Ray paused, looking Jack in the eye, trying to be as convincing as he could: “I'll be fine.”

“Yeah,” Jack smiled, the one that always turned all of his boyfriends into mush, “once you take shotgun.”

Ray kind of just gave up at the sight of that smile, hearing Ryan laugh quietly from somewhere inside the car, but fuck it, Jack's smiles were the fucking best, Ryan would give up immediately as well and he knew it, the asshole.

* * *

The moments like that, where he felt like throwing up, didn't always happen in moving vehicles, and, yeah, it was just his own stubbornness that stopped Ray from going to a fucking doctor about that. It usually happened before noon, around maybe ten or eleven, and only lasted for about three minutes, he estimated.

Though the upside to those episodes was the fact that he never threw up from them, thank whatever higher power was out there.

He'd been staring at his computer screen, trying to focus on the screen but it was  _hard_ , okay? The feeling in his abdomen felt like there was a rave and he could only concentrate on how nauseous he felt.

Michael, bless his soul, was trying to record something, though not rage quit from the lack of swears, maybe a full play (something about having plans for the weekend and after hours?) and mentioned Ray just enough for the man to take a peak at Michael from the corner of his eye.

And it seemed like Michael had a fucking someone-is-staring-at-you sense because he turned towards Ray immediately, eyes taking in Ray's appearance: “You don't look so good.”

“Nah. I'm fine, what're you filming?” well, he might as well continue with the conversation, he already ruined the only-Michael part of the video.

“Full play, we're going out for dinner today and I have to go to a wedding, so I can't come on Saturday,” he then turned more towards the microphone and whispered, “you fuckers hear that? A wedding is more important than you are. _Kidding_. Yeah, no, I'm not. You're assholes.”

Michael continued smiling until the game became too hard and he started yelling, Ray couldn't help but grin at the other man, the nauseousness forgotten.

* * *

Really, it wasn't a problem. It _wasn't_. He just didn't want to eat sometimes. Even dinner, which he usually ate, sometimes looked so _unappealing_ and he only tried to force it down his throat so that the other guys wouldn't worry. It wasn't even that the food tasted bad, Geoff's cooking was the fucking _best_ , just the fact that food inside his mouth made him feel sick. If he had an option to skip that part, for the food just to be in his stomach already, he would take it within a heartbeat.

So when he took a bite of the food and the taste repulsed him, he knew it was going to be one of those days.

He paused for a moment, trying to think of a good enough excuse, before settling on the first one he could think of: “I'm going to bed.”

Gavin looked up from his own meal like he was stung: “It's not that bad! I mean, guys, the food's not bad, right?”

The rest of their boyfriends were quick to reassure that, yes, Gavin's meal ( _oh, shit_ ) wasn't bad and that Ray was probably just tired, but Gavin didn't seem to relax at all so Ray just sat down again, taking the fork in his hand.

 _Of course_ it would be one of the days where Gavin made the meal, with his stupid 'special ingredients' and, damn it, Ray had to force the food down, if only because Gavin's food was fucking golden and the thought of it stopping because Ray was an atrocious eater was horrible. 

 _Anything for Vav,_ he thought tiredly, slowly eating the food and ignoring the taste for Gavin's sake.

Gavin stared at him, with darker eyes than usual and when Ray's third mouthful was swallowed, he just sighed: “Go to bed, you todger.”

Ignoring the word he didn't know, Ray walked towards the kitchen door, but made a quick stop behind Gavin's chair and kissed the top of his head, one arm loosely wrapped around Gav's chest in a mockery of a hug, before he did just what Vav told him to, went to bed because he suddenly felt _exhausted_.

(Later, Gavin's arm would wrap around his waist and he'd smile against Ray's skin and Ray knew he was forgiven.)

**Author's Note:**

> im so sorry ryan you got only like three sentences of screen time


End file.
